A Life Eternal
by CorrinaTFF
Summary: In 1918, the Spanish Influenza was claiming countless lives. Death was no stranger to him. Loneliness was prevalent and he was forever damned to it. Could he be selfish enough to change it? - Judge's Pick in TwiCanonFodder Challenge Veteran Category


_**Judge's Pick Winner**_

_**in**_

**Twilight Canon Fodder Challenge**

**Title: **_**A Life Eternal**_

**Your pen name(s)****: **_**CorrinaTFF**_

**Contest Category (Rookie/Vet): **_**Vet**_

**Characters/Pairing: **_**Carlisle**_

**Rating: **_**T**_

**Canon Type (Book/Movie): **_**Book**_

**Disclaimer: **_**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. As much as I'd love to be, I am not in any way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. **_

_**Please do not copy, post, print or use any portion of this story without the express permission of the author—namely me. Your cooperation is much appreciated and wholly expected.**_

_**Some descriptions in this story may be disturbing to read as they deal with death.**_

**Summary:**_**In 1918, the Spanish Influenza was claiming countless lives. Death was no stranger to him and l**__**ife alone was never an issue. Loneliness was prevalent and he was forever damned to it. Could he be selfish enough to change it?**_

**To see other entries in the Canon Fodder Challenge, please visit the C2 page:**

**http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Canon_Fodder_Challenge/79719/**

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Why, after everything I had trained myself to feel—after all of those countless years of watching endless amounts of humans die—did I find myself caring about what happened with one particular family? I had known of them, but there was nothing special about them in my eyes. I cared for every human the same, wanting them to live full and joyous lives the way I would have lived.

I continually struggled with the perplexity of the affections I had felt toward that sixteen year old girl in Ohio several years ago. A broken leg had brought her to me and, for the first time in a while, I felt desire burn deep within me. My need to claim her as my mate had taken over every part of my being. I had fled shortly after treating her to avoid the need I had felt to declare my desire for her. I would be remiss in taking her at such a young age even though my body was frozen at the age of twenty-three. I could not bring myself to pluck such a delicate flower from the only life she had known. I would not allow myself to condemn her to a soulless and lonely life such as mine. She needed to live a long human life with a husband that could cradle her in his arms without the worry of crushing her. I was certain she was to have been a beautiful wife and mother, but I knew it could only be as a human. I could not deny her the garden of life before her.

My flight from my love had brought me to Chicago, Illinois, where I dealt with much more death than the wars I had witnessed over the centuries provided. The Spanish Influenza had only just begun, and it felt as though all of Chicago lay dying in a hospital or makeshift ward. I was nearing the end of my self-imposed tenure when the pandemic began claiming human lives faster than we were able to appropriately bury them. Families would begin to grieve one loss only to begin grieving another within a matter of days. There was no comfort to give, and soon fear traversed the streets with such fervor that people were buying tonics from street merchants.

Researchers in my hospital had spoken of placing tissue samples on ice and freezing them for later study. I had already taken a few samples myself and had them safely hidden in the icebox in my home for my personal research. Unbeknownst to them, I had many more tools at my disposal—having collected them for nearly three hundred years—and with my vast knowledge I had hoped I would be competent enough to find a cure.

I needed no sleep, thereby making me the most capable being to discover a solution to end the fatalities. During the hours I spent away from the hospital to keep with appearances, I was locked inside my home researching various illnesses. I prayed the cures would be revealed in one of the many books I had collected over the years. If the cure was not found by my hand, I prayed someone gifted by God Himself would soon come forth.

Prayer. If my father were alive in this era, he would have me hunted down like the evil he had once damned to Hell. Knowing what I knew in this age, I wondered how many innocents my father's raiders had murdered. I had so much blood on my own hands that I knew not of whether there were enough repentant actions I could carry out to save my soul. Had I a soul worth saving? Everything I had learnt under the tutelage of my father had taught me that creatures—such as I now was—were soulless, vile things unworthy of life. _We_ had no place on this earth as we were not born so much as we were created.

Having lived as I had, my argument would be that Our Father had created us in his own image. It had been taught to us from the very Bible my Anglican father had chosen to preach from. Thus, if we were created by Our Father, it would stand to reason He had created us all. I remained on earth, existing in His image. I admit the entire inference was debatable, but I had a sound thesis.

Because of my affliction, as it were, I was able to research around the clock. If I were human, I would lose precious hours that were best spent on assisting mankind. By healing the sick, I was doing God's work; it was a penance for my past murderous deeds. My atonement would begin anew with the Masens.

Edward Masen Senior had been brought in by his wife, Elizabeth, and their son, Edward. Edward Senior had taken ill, and she had been caring for him at their home. Though he had a muscular build, which was evident even though he had been sick in bed for a week, you could see the strength had left his body.

As I tended to him, I had asked that his wife leave us so that I may best assess how far off he was. His wife refused to leave his side, and without removing her eyes from him, declared, "Young man, he and my son are my life. I cannot exist without them. I will remain by my husband's bedside until he is well enough to return home." She ran her hands over his forehead, sweeping the hair out of his face. It was evident that she was a comfort to him as his brow relaxed under her delicate caress.

I must confess I admired her dedication but feared for her when I realized she, herself, was showing signs of fatigue. I knew the illness would set in quickly and wished that I could somehow warn her. I treated every patient as best I could, but treating them before any signs were witnessed by human eyes would have been a risk with grievous consequences if revealed.

How do you explain preventative measures to people who believed tonics were the medicines of the future? All they really were was moonshine mixed in with some castor oil and whatever else these so-called _medicine men_ could find. Most were shams, and more people worsened from these alleged healing tonics than they would have if they had left well enough alone. Mixtures as such were sometimes deadly, but the deaths were often blamed on the illness itself not the fatally toxic concoction.

From what I had gathered, the son had been neglecting his studies to assist in the care of his father. He was a strong, intelligent boy, and I prayed for Elizabeth to make it through her sickness for him. He had every confidence in the world that his father would return from this miserable disease. I did not know how to confess to them that the elder Masen's future was short.

"Thank you for caring for my father as you have. I understand how difficult it must be to work around my mother's presence, but I wish you to know your efforts do not go unnoticed. We both wish to extend our gratitude for your kindness in these matters."

"It is not of issue, Edward. It is good to see a devoted family such as yours. "

"Yes, in this time it is difficult to imagine myself away from them. However, I suppose Mother must come to the realization that I may not be around for much longer. You see, Doctor Cullen, I have enlisted, and, with any luck, I will be off to war soon. My mother knows of this and fears for my safety even though I have not yet left. I only wish to do my duty as a man of this country."

"It is indeed noble of you, Edward. 'Tis a brave undertaking for a man of precious few years. However, I would not speak of such things in front of your mother at this time, lest we cause her more worry."

"Quite right." He walked back to his mother who sat vigilantly at his father's side. He gently touched her shoulder, and she placed a hand over his in a loving gesture.

The epidemic upon us was not the only battle we were staunchly fighting.

_War_. It had started nearly four years prior. It was yet another battle where countless lives had been needlessly lost, and still it burned to claim more. I had seen too many of these wars over the years and still had yet to grasp why. What could have been reason enough for one man to kill another in cold blood? I was educated enough to know that those men were ordered to kill as an occupation of sorts. I had no right to question their motives as many Anglican raiders—myself among them—in the mid 1600's had done the same to please one man. Their pastor. My father.

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I knew it would happen soon, I just had not known just how quickly Elizabeth would have taken ill. Edward brought her in a few days later in the middle of the night. She was so much weaker than I had seen her only hours before at her husband's bedside, and I instantly knew she was declining faster than most in the ward.

I could see signs of the illness overtaking the younger Edward as well. A sheen of sweat shone on the pallid skin above his brow. He believed it to be the exertion of carrying his mother, but I knew better. I had him lie in the bed next to hers under the guise of her needing him near. He reluctantly obliged, and I watched as the influenza quickly spread through his body.

For my own sake, I was forced to leave in the early morning hours, and I dreaded my return later that evening. I did not wish to return to hear of the Masens passing. The love the family held for each other was ever present and it made me yearn for my own companionship once again. I knew of others like me but none with my restraint. Years spent in hospitals around human blood had afforded me a tolerance to the lust for it.

I knew of people who had been changed, but I did not wish to turn anyone myself. Knowing the agonizing pain I had fought my way through in the early days of my change, I had never wished this life on anyone. The blood lust itself had been crippling enough without the woeful loneliness I suffered from.

In the beginning, while hiding from the human world, I had tried everything to curb the hunger—going so far as to 'starve' myself to the point that I had attacked a herd of deer which had crossed my path. From that day on, I knew I would never feed on humans and had resorted to drinking animal blood alone.

Edward Masen Senior died quickly and peacefully, much to Elizabeth's dismay. She and her son had been so certain he would survive, but many families had felt the same way only to be grieving soon after. The loss did not help either of their conditions. I believed the anguish made them worsen, decreasing their own chances of survival.

The influenza overtook young Edward much faster than anyone could have foreseen. He was soon in much worse condition than Elizabeth, and she began nursing him from her own sickbed. I tried to no avail to get her to rest so that she did not deteriorate as quickly. She would not be moved from her son, declaring once again that he was her life and adding that he was all she had left in this world.

I was more concerned for them than I should have been, but I could not abate the compassion instilling itself in me. I left reluctantly after pleading with Elizabeth to relax and allow the doctors and nurses to care for her son.

"Elizabeth, you must take rest. You do wish to be well for Edward when he awakens, do you not? Please allow us the freedom to care for him."

"Do you have children, Doctor Cullen?" I shook my head denying I had them. I could not have them.

Her voice was weak but determined when she continued. "I thought not. If you had, you would understand the devotion I feel toward my son. I am unable to _not_ care for him when he is much in need of it. It is a duty I gladly accepted from the day I found him to be in my womb, and I shall not shirk that responsibility now."

What kind of man would I have been to argue that logic? I knew I had to, at the least, convince her to lie down. "Elizabeth, please just rest until the evening. Edward would not be very pleased to know that his mother was so ill because she had cared for him though she needed much rest to recover."

I saw the defeat win over as her shoulders dropped. I knew how very weak she was, and I was winning the debate because of it. She simply nodded in resignation before climbing back into her bed and shutting her eyes.

"I will be here later this evening to check on you both." I pulled the cover over her, patted her shoulder and walked toward the door, all the while listening to her breathing. It was ragged and growing more faint with every intake. I was not sure either of them would make it through the day, but I was certain Edward would be the first to leave this place. Unfortunately, it would be in a box.

When I returned just after sunset, I rushed to their beds to check on their conditions. Elizabeth's body was giving in to the disease's demands, and the fever was moving powerfully through her. It was ravaging her body so quickly that I couldn't imagine her lasting the hour. According to the nurses, she had not heeded my warnings. She remained steadfast at her son's side caring for him though she was declining in health.

Her eyes widened when she saw me approach, and she looked at me with such determination I was a bit put off. Through her fever-dried throat she clutched to my robe and demanded I save her son. I took her heated hands between my cool ones and promised her I would do all I could. She tightened her grip as best she was able and again insisted I save him, adding that I may well do something for him no one else could. I instantly feared she knew my secret; that somehow I had revealed myself to her.

She suddenly collapsed back to the bed, her breathing increasingly labored. With much exerted effort we were unable to rouse her, and she died within the hour as I had predicted. Times like these I wished I could be wrong, but my decades of study had afforded me little room for error in my estimations.

Edward had remained unconscious and completely unaware of what had transpired. I wondered if he somehow knew his mother lay in the bed beside him—expired. He had but hours left in his own life. A life that, if he were to survive, would be emptied of the familial bond and unconditional love he had grown accustomed.

Could I do what Elizabeth had asked? Was it right to take a life such as his without his permission? I reasoned that the disease would take him if I did not, but could she have known what she had asked of me?

She had naively asked me to condemn her son to an eternity of watching others die before him. I looked at Edward—his mother's features echoed in every millimeter of skin. He was a beautiful young man and truly noble of heart—nobility I would have wished my own son to have possessed. I knew what I had to do, and I needed to act quickly.

I gathered a gurney and took his mother to the morgue first. I did not relish the thought of leaving her there, but there was nothing to be done. I returned to Edward immediately after and wheeled him down as well. No one had the time to consider whether a patient was living or dead as they were moved through the corridors so my actions went unnoticed.

Once in the morgue, I gathered Edward into my arms and fled the hospital. Under the cover of the evening's shadows, I ran over rooftops to my home and settled Edward upon my bed. His breathing was growing weaker, and I could hear his body giving in. I had precious little time to save him. If I was going to change him, I needed to be steadfast in my decision.

I had no experience in changing anyone. There was no first hand knowledge to base my actions upon. I had not yet tasted human blood…but I was willing to sacrifice my soul to grant a dying mother's wish.

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_**A/N: Thank you to my betas shoefreak37 and mcc101180, you ladies came through in a pinch for me!**_

_**Thank you to all of you for reading and reviewing...and to those of you that voted.**_


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